


Rubber ducky, you're the one

by Swanhilde (Dreamicide)



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Bath Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamicide/pseuds/Swanhilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fakir and Ahiru have bubble bath sex. 'Nuff said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubber ducky, you're the one

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place several years post-series, where Ahiru regains her human form and they'd have more business doing stuff like this. Also I'm really sorry about the title.

"Ahhhh," Ahiru sighed as she sank deep into the warm bubble bath up to her chin, her eyelids heavy from contentment. Whether her form was of a human or duck, she loved being submerged in water. With a lazy smile, she lifted up one foot to peek above the bubbles, splashing lightly. Thanks to her friends earlier that day, there were scented candles gently illuminating the dimmed bathroom—they were a suggestion from Pique specifically, who enjoyed fresh cotton scents in particular. After taking the candles and bubble bath bottle home, Ahiru quickly discovered they had reason to favor them. It was something she had never experienced as a girl or a duck, to be treated to such an exquisite method of bathing. The chemicals softened her skin, making it smell faintly of lavender while the heavenly scented candles filled her lungs.

Then the door at the other side of the room creaked open, and Ahiru turned to see Fakir standing below the frame with his eyebrows raised.

Ahiru blinked, and then those blue eyes flitted over the expanse of the bathroom, catching the changes she had made. "Ah… did I do something wrong?"

Fakir stood still for a moment, before shaking his head and stepped toward the sink. "… No. I just wasn't expecting it."

Ahiru giggled in response, her cheeks warm. By this point in their relationship they were comfortable with seeing each other in the bath or shower, and each took turns brushing teeth and other such daily routines every day. Gone was the boy who threw clothes at her face in a scandalized outrage when she appeared naked before his eyes. "What do you think?"

"I can barely breathe," he answered honestly as he turned the faucet on and drenched a washcloth in ice cold water, bringing it to wipe his face and neck. It was clear judging by his light clothing and sweat stains that Fakir had just returned from a rigorous session of practice.

"That's 'cause your stink is in here mucking it up," Ahiru chirped with a grin, giving a small splash over the suds. Then she had an idea, one that left her quiet for a few moments as she watched his back bent over the sink, her thoughts deep in consideration.

When Fakir gave a small pained groan at a stiff muscle in his neck, Ahiru reached a conclusion, and scooted to one side of the bathtub to make room. When he turned around, she smiled sheepishly.

"Um… why don't you come in? I bet the hot water will feel really good! And you've been working really hard lately, so…"

To her shock—and pleasant surprise—her proposal was interrupted with the sound of rustling cloth and Fakir already stepping a leg into the bubbled water. In less than a minute he had fully removed himself of clothing and slowly began to sink in the clean white porcelain tub, sitting across from her. His eyes closed, cringing as he got used to the higher than normal temperature.

Ahiru gave him a sympathetic smile. "Was it that bad today?" It had to be, for him to so eagerly jump on an opportunity like a suffocating scented bath without any comment.

Fakir gave a grunt in response, sighing afterwards. Ahiru raised her hands to his shoulders and began to knead, which clearly pleased Fakir immediately as he opened his eyes. "Private practice was fine. It's those damn brats that are giving me a migraine," he commented, referring to the small class of preadolescents taking a summer beginner ballet course the Academy started to offer some years back. "They don't practice on their own and it's painfully obvious, then they go whining when they pull their unworked muscles."

Rubbing her thumbs in circles over his clavicles, Ahiru hummed. "Don't you teach them how they can prevent that from happening too much?"

"Of course I do." He scoffed. "They just don't listen to a damn thing I say. They're at that age where they like to believe they know best, when there's absolutely no reason to."

Ahiru couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're starting to sound like an old man when you say things like that!" At his scowl, Ahiru could only laugh more. On impulse she gathered up a pile of suds to her chest and lifted them up, smearing it all across Fakir's face. "See, you're an old man now!"

"Hey—" Fakir jerked back, but it was too late, for he now sported a great white bubbly beard. He gave her a deadpan look as she howled with quack-like laughter, unable to control her giggles at such a silly image.

"So you think me an old man, huh," he said, reaching up to wipe off what he could of the bubbles. When she finally began to calm down, Fakir raised an eyebrow.

"Mmhmm, a really, really grouchy old man." She leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

"I never pinged you as the type of person into old men," Fakir commented, going along with their little teasing game. "Can't help but wonder what everyone would think of it."

Going back to kneading his muscles, Ahiru declared proudly: "I wouldn't care what anyone else thinks! They can mind their own business."

"Hmm," Fakir hummed, half listening and half relaxing into her touch. "No. I still think something needs to be fixed to make the picture complete."

When Ahiru blinked and looked at him quizzically, Fakir only offered her the smallest flash of a smirk at the corner of his lips before he reached out and shoved a handful of bubbles at the top of her head. Ahiru flailed, falling back to the other side of the tub and causing the soapy water to swash about. "Waugh!"

"There. An old woman to complement the old man. No one would think anything suspicious of that."

"Heeeeey." Despite the pout she threw at him, her eyes were beaming. Shifting, she moved across the tub to sit closer to him, almost in his lap. She rest her head against his shoulder, letting the suds slide down the back of her neck as he wrapped his arms about her body and they took a moment to relax from the fun, sighing.

Ahiru was silent about it, but… a part of her did wonder if they would be able to grow old together. Holding hands and raising children, staying by each other’s side even after they’re too old to dance anymore… Somehow the image wouldn't leave her mind.

"You know, I bet you'll always be really handsome, even when your hair gets all grey and you get a beard." She smiled into his skin.

"I am never growing a beard," Fakir grunted, idly sliding one hand up and down the expanse of her naked back.

"Why not?"

"Too bothersome."

"But you've never had one before, so how would you know?"

"Does having a bunch of hair over your lower face look comfortable to _you_?"

Ahiru wriggled in her spot, sitting fully on his lap with her legs spread and crouching as she straddled him. "But it could be so much fun!"

That earned a look from Fakir, and his hands paused in their trek. "… Fun how, exactly."

"Like…" After taking a moment of consideration, Ahiru leaned in to softly press her lips to his, allowing her lower lip to brush against his ever so lightly. Her eyes had been closed, but then flew open upon meeting an unexpected sensation. Pulling back, her hands rest on his shoulders and Ahiru couldn't help but exclaim, "Wait a minute, you're already growing a beard!"

Fakir frowned, but she could see the redness creeping up at his cheeks. He almost sounded petulant as he corrected her. "Idiot. I've just been too busy and haven't had time to shave in a couple of days. There's a difference between a full grown beard and just a little stubble."

Reverently, Ahiru reached up to stroke his cheek, the rough texture greeting her fingertips. It was barely noticeable by sight, but boy could she ever  _feel_  it. In a way, it was similar to when she went a day or two without shaving her legs—it was imperceptible unless she touched the skin.

"Hmm." She continued to stroke his face in curiosity, pleased that Fakir allowed her to do so at the very least. "I kinda like it…"

"Do you," he murmured quietly, his expression soft as he gazed at her. The way even the smallest things like this could make her day never failed to amaze Fakir. Soon, he returned to stroking up and down her back, the water lightly waving back and forth in the tub.

"Yeah," she whispered, and leaned in to kiss him again. This time she kissed slowly and fully, taking her time to feel his lips as she brushed the back of her fingers to his cheek affectionately.

Fakir's eyes fell shut, enjoying the attentions as he worked his hands up to her shoulder blades. He gave a light lick, a small flicker before receding back, and it was met with a lazy nip to his lower lip. She tugged lightly and pulled back, proceeding to shower his face with wet kisses.

"Feels rough and soft at the same time," she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. He settled his grip about her waist in return, and sighed when she returned to kissing him and nuzzled against his skin.

"You really like it that much, huh," he whispered.

"It's different… but good."

"Hm."

It didn't take long for Fakir to catch on when Ahiru continued to brush her cheeks against his own, and he soon returned the gestures, letting her feel the small prickles dragging across what he felt was far too beautiful skin to mar. Soon he bent his head down to kiss her neck, relishing in the heavenly sigh of "oh," he was rewarded with.

Unable to mask how aroused she was, Ahiru squeezed her thighs around his middle, her fingers gliding up into his hair at the same time. Without pause he pressed heavy kisses to her neck, juncture, and collar bone. Once he had reached as low as he could, Fakir abruptly planted his hands on her rear and tugged, pulling her up for him to be eye level with her chest. Ahiru squeaked in surprise, but allowed him to support her as he went back and forth between brushing his stubble against her nipples and lathering them with his warm, soft tongue. Always he left her guessing what would come next. He completed his attention with her favorite—nipping quickly at the small peak and pulling, knowing she inexplicably loved the sharp feeling. She cried out, her face fully flushed from cheek to cheek and blemishing her many freckles. Just the sight that never failed to turn him on.

"Had enough?" Fakir inquired, rolling his eyes up to look at her while he continued suckling her breasts.

Smiling blissfully, Ahiru shook her head. "Nu-uh. I wanna feel it all over…"

"All over," he repeated lowly. "That's a real challenge you're presenting."

Before Ahiru could reply, he gripped her ass and jerked her to stand up even further, and soon had her goaded to stand on her legs before him, water and bubbles running slick down her lithe naked body. Letting her support herself by gripping the back of his head, Fakir circled his tongue around her navel and lowered down her body in teasing, light motions, not once forgetting to utilize the stubble she had a newfound fondness for.

Soon enough he reached his target, sliding his tongue between the warm and wet folds of her sex. Ahiru's legs quivered, her thighs flexing as she moaned. The small tentative licks soon turned into open mouthed kisses as he parted his lips to run his tongue up and down before closing to let his chin scrape the soft flesh. Like going back and forth between velvet and sandpaper, Ahiru thought dimly to herself—not that his stubble was actually painful like sandpaper, but her mind was far too clouded in the heat of the moment to think straight enough for a more accurate analogy. Her head lolled back and she whimpered, her fingers digging tightly into his hair. Fakir groaned in return, pulling her closer from his grip on her rear to all but devour her, proud of the way he made her tremble.

"F-Fakir," she gasped. "I'm gonna—I c-can't stand up—"

"I will not let you fall," Fakir growled, squeezing his fingers into her backside. "I promise."

Ahiru nodded, almost dazed, and lightly she began to move her hips in half circles to grind against his mouth. Her knees were weak, almost completely unable to support herself—but just as Fakir promised, he held her up. Just as he always did, and will forevermore.

When she came she expelled the breath in her lungs on a high pitched keen, her thighs flexing and tightening almost painfully around his head. For just a bare fleeting moment her feet did slip—but Fakir held fast to allow her a slow and safe descent, watching as she all but melted against him in her path back down to his lap.

It took a few moments of catching her breath before she could safely say she came back down to earth. Resting her head on his shoulder, Ahiru gathered her bearings as she felt a few small aftershocks trembling her inner muscles.

"Mmm… ehehe," she giggled. "That was… ah… mm." Without moving her head, she glanced up to him, still smiling. "Wow."

"Does it really make that much of a difference?" Fakir asked quietly, slightly amused.

"Yeah," she affirmed. "Definitely."

They gently fell into a few minutes of peaceful quiet where they rest comfortably in each other’s arms. By then many of the bubbles had died out, leaving the tub mostly filled with soapy lukewarm water.

Then Fakir shifted, closing his eyes. "… I'm still never growing a beard."

That broke Ahiru out into a fit of giggles, shaking her head left and right against his neck in glee. "Okay, okay, doesn't have to be a big ol' beard! But maybe you could do that thing again sometime…?"

"I don't see why not," Fakir conceded in a sigh, pulling her close.

She could feel him growing hard between her legs the longer they sat there, the blood pumping in full hearty throbs. She did nothing to discourage it—if anything she only coaxed his arousal, lightly shifting her hips to rub against his length teasingly. It never failed to make her giddy, feeling the direct evidence of how he so _earnestly_ derived pleasure from giving her pleasure in turn.

Her wicked plan did not escape Fakir, and he glanced down to her with an arched eyebrow.

Ahiru’s eyes shined as a mischievous grin spread across her face. “… You wanna?”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was referring to, which was evidenced all the further when she gave another languid roll of her hips.

They had fooled around in the shower before, even over by the counter, but the bathtub was thus far unexplored territory. Fakir had to admit the idea roused his curiosity—as well as certain other parts of him, aided by the remaining rush in his veins leftover from tasting her. He was still feeling considerably worn out from his earlier practice, however, and hesitated as he mulled over whether he had enough stamina to last or if he would have to decline and postpone the offer to another day.

But he was nothing if not resourceful, and after another moment of contemplation, his lips pulled into a small smirk.

“Sure. I ‘ _wanna_ ,’” he said, stressing the last word in a lightly teasing tone.

Ahiru gave a purposeful wriggle in his lap and arched up to meet his kiss. Neither in the mood to rush things, they took their time to enjoy one another, making small contented sighs and playful nibbles between the moments. With a small hum, Ahiru lifted her hips to stand on her knees, reaching down with the intent to hold him in place as she lowered herself, but paused as she felt Fakir taking her hand and stopping her in her tracks.

“Hold on…”

She opened her eyes to read his expression, but he didn’t appear to be having second thoughts. In fact, when he reached for her hips, it was so that he could guide her into shifting around. The water sloshed as Ahiru turned around with her back to his chest, anticipation thrumming in her body as he arranged her to his liking.

Eventually she ended up spread-eagled in his lap, the position leaving her feeling open—and incredibly excited.

“Is like this all right?” His voice brushed against the curve of her ear in a low husk, sending a pleasing shiver down her spine.

“Uh-huh…”

Once again she sought his length, angling her hips to make a proper alignment. When she felt the head sliding along her sex, she began slowly sinking herself onto him, both of them releasing blissful sighs as she took him in inch by blessed inch. She loved the full feeling, especially from behind like this.

And Fakir knew it. Perhaps the decision to position themselves like this was a bit strategic on his part. Usually he would save the act of flipping her over and driving into her from behind for last, as it was definitely most effective in pushing her over the edge just when she ached for it most. But if he wasn’t meant to last very long in this encounter, then he figured he might as well utilize the knowledge to ensure both their satisfaction to his best ability. 

He gave an experimental roll of his hips, receiving a breathless moan in response as Ahiru lolled her head back to rest on his shoulder. Feeling content with the arrangement, Fakir placed his hands on her hips and braced his legs against the other side of the porcelain tub, grounding himself as he began to move at a steady, even pace.

“Mmm…” Ahiru hummed her approval before releasing a giggle, her hands reaching out behind her to skate through his hair. He pressed kisses to her cheek and neck, of which she then arched, feeling once again the rough texture of his stubble. After getting a good look at the wonderful manner her face flushed, Fakir’s eyes fell to her chest, and watched in transfixion as every move he made shifted her perky nipples either just above or below the soapy water’s surface, up and down. He cupped them, pulling tight, before roaming his hands elsewhere along her body: her waist, stomach, down to her thighs, and stroked back up again.

Ahiru abandoned her hold on Fakir’s neck to grasp at the sides of the bathtub, her cries escalating in frequency and pitch as she lost herself, hips moving back and forth of their own accord. Her growing urgency was quickly noted as Fakir wrapped his arms around her, clutching with desperate hands as he felt himself climbing that precipice. Her long red hair draped over the edge when she threw her head back on a particularly fulfilling thrust, ( _just in the right spot_ —), and neither of them could bring themselves to care for the water that spilled over the tiled floor in result of their lovemaking.

Pressing another stubble-scraped kiss to her neck, Fakir reached down between her legs and feverishly began to rub in tight circles. Ahiru tilted her head and captured his lips, practically dazed and pulling more ungraceful sounds from her voice that would otherwise cause her embarrassment in any other context.  But not like this, not when Fakir was making her feel so good, could she ever feel mortified.

Fakir had predicted the session would be brief, and he assumed correctly; it did not take long before he felt her clench around him and she shouted her abrupt orgasm. It seized her body, feeling as though it ripped her from the seams—and after already having an intense climax earlier that left her wobbling on her feet, Ahiru had yet to finish riding it out before Fakir quickly began driving into her, seeking a swift release of his own. A low, guttural sound ripped from his throat once he found it, and their bodies slackened against each other, catching their breaths and letting the water slowly drift to a settling calm around them.

After several moments Ahiru gave a small giddy squirm, only to be subject to a rush of guilt when the grunt Fakir emitted in response was one of pain.

“Ah—I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking… you were already feeling tired from practice and I still went and asked—”

“Moron.” She felt the rough texture of his skin as he kissed the area behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to.”

She still felt the slightest tinge of guilt, but at the same time knew Fakir wouldn’t just say things like that if he didn’t mean it. Blushing, she gave a nod. “M-mm… okay.”

They spent a few more moments quiet, feeling the bath water gradually flow to a still. Many of the candles had burned out, they’d grown desensitized to the many scents, and the water had long ago lost much of its warmth, now raising gooseflesh upon their skin in a lukewarm temperature.

Wriggling, Ahiru nuzzled against Fakir and giggled what she could with her regained breath. “We made the water all dirty now,” she said quietly.

Fakir glanced, and gave a contented sigh. “It’s not that bad,” he murmured. “But you can take a shower if you want.”

“Mm…” Ahiru shook her head. “Nah. Maybe later, but… not right now.”

“Shall we dry off, then?”

The pads of Ahiru’s fingers had begun to wrinkle by then, so there was no objection in her voice when she said yes. She leaned forward and let him gently slip out of her before standing up, her legs still wobbling a little in exhaustion. Fakir rose immediately after and reached for her arm, steadying her carefully.

“Wait here,” he soothed. “I’ll get the towels. Can’t have you slipping and hitting your head on something.”

“I wasn’t gonna,” Ahiru mumbled in faux petulance, but remained in place as Fakir stepped out of the tub and made his way over to the towel rack, dripping water over the floor in his wake. To be fair, she really did feel as though she may trip if she had tried moving too fast. They went through quite a work-out just now.

She wouldn’t quite say Fakir was ‘over-protective’ anymore, not like the way he was back when he guarded over Mytho and her later on. Perhaps a better word would be ‘attentive.’

He quickly wrapped a towel around his hips and then grabbed another, shaking it out and turning to Ahiru, holding it wide in expectation. She smiled, her eyes glowing softly, as she quickly padded wetly toward him and allowed him to wrap the towel around her body and scoop her up in a comfy cocoon, hugging her close to his chest.

Leaning her head against him, Ahiru hummed. She could say with every confidence that she felt infinitely glad she had asked Fakir to join her in her bath, even if at first she’d expected him to politely decline.

“Maybe we could do this more often?”

Fakir glanced down to her.

“I mean,” she amended, “we don’t have to do—to do _that_ every time, but just as a way to relax! Especially when you’re feeling all sore and stuff.”

In all honesty, Fakir didn’t have to consider it for very long. But he did keep her hanging for a few moments, just as a small tease.

“Hmm…” Leaning down to kiss the top of her head, he smiled. “I don’t see why not.”


End file.
